


What Glitters Isn't Always Gold: Kiss A Gun

by awkwardeye



Series: Second POV [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, It's fucked up, M/M, Prostitution, Threesome - F/M/M, bdsm-y? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardeye/pseuds/awkwardeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is a sadist who likes to watch Kylo have sex with a prostitute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Glitters Isn't Always Gold: Kiss A Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: it's a kind of fuck or die situation also I've never written anything like this before and this is mostly a challenge for myself. I'm experimenting with second person pov right now so yeah wow i feel like sin

“Close your eyes.”

He says it before he touches you. Always, he says it, never missing the opportunity to remind you. The cloth is soft, dark, and your eyelashes brush against it like it is the silken skin upon which you wish to leave the most innocent kind of kiss: one reminiscent of the fluttering of the thin, beautiful wings of butterflies. He blinds you, but tells you to do the same. _Close your eyes and I’ll cover them_ , he seems to say wordlessly.

The hotel room stinks of sweat and that odor intrinsic to young males (with little if any variation) that accumulates on the edges of pillows, beneath sheets, narrow corners, and all of their clothing. _Eau d’homme_ , the others call it and sometimes, for the kinder men with rosy cheeks and combed hair, they call it both teasingly and endearingly _eau de garçon_. There’s no difference for you; they all stink like all terrible things when they fall upon you like the waves upon a dry shore, a rising tide wetting the sand and drowning it, too. But there’s something about him and that other one, that kinder yet crueler one, that makes that smell something you yearn for. There’s smoke on your tongue and cologne rubbing off on your skin.

“He’s going to bind your wrists now,” the kinder yet crueler one says. Hux, his name is, and he watches and speaks, but almost never reaches for you. There’s an air of apprehension around him and you’ve come to both loathe and love the nights when you step into a dank suite and there he is, sitting beside the bed with a cigarette between his lips and his icy eyes flashing like he’s always slightly surprised that you’ve returned.

“Do you prefer mammals or reptiles?” Kylo Ren asks.

“Mammals, Master,” you answer, softly.

“I do enjoy mammals. Don’t you, Ren?” Hux’s tone is playful.

“I prefer reptiles.”

A leather belt snakes around your wrists. You count the times his fingers brush your skin as he loops the belt around this wrist, then that one, until he leaves your arms immobile unless you decide to take a chance. But such a thing is forbidden: resistance. You roll your shoulders, testing out the sensation in the moment that always follows in which Kylo Ren watches you and Hux watches both of you like a teacher watching his prized student apply his studies to life, but he almost eagerly awaits a mistake. You hear it in his breath quickened by a thinly veiled excitement. The chair creaks and it’s no assumption that he’s leaning forward because you feel a new set of hands, nimble hands that know these binds so well, fumble with the belt, testing it.

Hux sighs, pleased, and says something to his companion in a language you don’t understand, a language constructed by harsh syllables mixed in with the sweetest sounds. His tone is professional, like he’s ordering a meal he’s not particularly interested in from a restaurant and he views himself as too above the waiter to have to deal with him. When he switches tongues, his tone grows unbelievably icy and bored; like this is the most tedious task he’s ever been dealt.

“She’s pretty, young, thoroughly used,” he says.

You feel a leather covered hand slide up your back and you’re unsure of its owner until it stops between your shoulder blades, digits spreading, and the fingertips seem to attempt to burrow into your body.

“Open your mouth,” Hux orders, pressing his fingers to your lips.

You feel the mattress dip slightly, barely. Your heart pounds quickly in your chest like the restless thing it is as you wonder exactly how he’s positioned himself before you and what it is that he wants to put in your mouth. A sugar cube (that was enjoyable)? A gag? His fingers? His cock? You never know until he puts the thing and you swirl your tongue around it to learn it and then he tells you exactly what he’s put in your mouth and what he’s going to do and what you’re going to do in turn.

The men on either side of you are the opposite ends of magnets, yet of the same charge. After a long battle, with just enough strength, they’re pushed together for a moment passing quickly and the excitement of it makes them forget that they are repelled by each other. Though you don’t know much of what they do when you leave them, there’s an air between them that says what they won’t and it tells you that they’ve known each other in all senses of the word and your presence is a sort of treat for them. But they’re not quite lavender; perhaps they’re blue and violet around their edges. The man in front of you is sure of himself, so sure that he’s sure he can control you with words alone; and he employs touch solely for his pleasure. The man at your back is one who wants only to bend you until you break, to beat you into submission, and use your body as an anxious broker uses a cigarette: for momentary relief, but he’s so insecure that he needs those hands to fall upon you before he’s convinced you worship him.

“He’s going to stain you,” Hux says.

Your mouth hangs open uselessly as you feel Kylo Ren’s lips burn a trail from your left shoulder to the shell of your ear. The residue of his kisses sticks to your skin and it’s light, but noticeable like ice cream drying on skin. His lips are warm, wet, and parted enough for hot puffs of breath to fan across your skin. His hands are at your wrists, pulling them back until you’re forced to straddle his thighs. The muscles flex as you sink down against him, careful not to get too excited and get ahead of yourself.

“He’s going to touch your cunt.”

Long fingers push aside the thin fabric of your cheap underwear, dragging themselves lazily over slick lips. One finger slides between your folds, drawing a tentative line from your clit to your slit. And then it pushes forward as if only exploring, slipping effortlessly into you, the smooth leather feeling foreign inside you. It stops at the knuckle, twists slightly, and then curls, as he begins to rotate his palm pressed against your clit. Your breath is ragged, wild. You hang your head, he adds another finger and buries it the same. In, out, he thrusts his fingers into you, preparing you for himself. You whimper when Kylo pulls both fingers from you, your hips chasing them as much as they can until his other hand stills your movements. He circles your clit with the wet digits and all you can focus on is how nice it feels, that soft touch, and, yet, unfulfilling.

“I didn’t say he would make you cum,” Hux says. He’s close; you feel his breath hit the tip of your nose.

You lean back, away from him, molding yourself to Kylo as much as you can with your wrists tied behind you. Your fingers clutch at the smooth fabric of his shirt and catch on a few buttons. Merciful, he doesn’t bring attention to the small resistance and you know it’s because it inflates his ego when you want him and not his companion. They’re like children calling a puppy to prove whom it prefers to lavish with its simple affections. Smoke fills your nostrils and slips into your mouth and, though you choke, you don’t close it for fear of Hux’s punishment.

“Are you afraid?” Hux asks.

You shake your head.

Hux falls silent, fumbles with something, and mutters something to Kylo Ren that makes the dark haired man chuckle. He forces something hard into your mouth. It’s smooth with a circular opening, cold, and hard and a single guess at what you’re nearly sure it is forces your heart into your throat as your lips tighten around it and your tongue wriggles unsure of what else to do with the foreign object.

“I put a gun in your mouth. Now Ren is going to pull his cock out and you’re going to ride it like your life depends on it. Do you know why you’re going to fuck like your life depends on it?” Hux pauses for a response that he doesn’t expect, pulling the gun from your mouth briefly. A single click freezes your blood. It’s back in your mouth before you can process the connection between its retreat and the resounding click. “Because your life depends on it, pet.”

Trust is nothing if not a necessity. That’s what Kylo Ren says before the start of each session and how he ends every session with a cigarette between his lips. On the times when he calls for you and you’re alone, he says it and then jokes that with someone like Hux, a sadistic misogynist whose sexual frustration translates into something short of homicidal tendencies, trust is like deciding whether or not to take the knife at your throat or the knife at your back; it doesn’t matter how you take it as long as he’s in charge. I this moment, you’re taking the knife at your throat because you feel it and know it.

“What are you waiting for? You can’t fuck him if you’re dead.”

Kylo guides your body with his hands, the body that betrays the fear running rampant through your mind as he coaxes its desire with fingers kissed and wet by it. You can feel your own pulse, feel every breath’s passage through your body, and you feel every drop of desire roll from your body like sweat over burning skin. You still want Kylo. A part of you still wants Hux. This is calm. It’s a promise, but it’s not as terrifying as the blood that he’s brought from your veins to cascade over your skin in the past.

Your head falls back when you sink down on to Kylo Ren’s cock. He doesn’t offer any other help, but presses two fingers to your sensitive clit and begins to rub it in slow circles, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips muffled by what could be your death. Leaning against him, you move awkwardly, trying to find a consistent rhythm, but between the rolling waves of white fear and red arousal, your body ignores your orders like it truly has a choice. There are fingers on face and fingers on your waist, but you can only focus on the heat of Kylo buried inside you and his fingers gaining speed as Hux begins to murmur. Rolling your hips, Kylo groans and holds you so tightly you can almost feel the bruises born beneath his fingers. Slow circles, now up, down, back. Now there are fingers at your throat, deserting your waist, and Kylo murmurs into your ear for you to go faster, faster, as he drives his hips upward with enough force to make your own stutter then stop. When his fingers tighten on your throat, you hurry. You can’t tell if the corners of your vision are darkening beneath the cloth.

“Fuck him like you mean it,” Hux hisses.

A hand slaps away a hand and you feel a sharp burst of pleasure shoot through your body as he pinches your clit between two fingers and then rolls it quickly.

“You’re going to make him cum in two minutes or I’m going to pull the trigger.” He’s calm again.

You work your hips furiously, desperate because you trust Hux in this moment where your life hangs from Kylo’s death of sorts. Killing him with his own sword, you could call it. It feels too good too quickly with Hux touching you, his bare skin on your body so warm, that you feel the familiar pressure between your legs, that familiar twitch, but no reaction from Kylo. You plead uselessly, turning your head as if you’ll see him, but your vision is blocked and all you know is the sound, that slick noise of his cock thrusting into you and you hate yourself a bit for how much your body likes this when death is drawing near with every failed attempt to bring him to his climax.

“I told your boss I might kill you one of these days,” Hux whispers. “You know what he said, pet? He told me I can do whatever I want as long as I pay, as long he doesn’t to clean up my mess. Come now, pet, what’s taking so long? You’re fucking him like a bitch in heat, but you’re not doing enough. Look at you, cumming on his cock like you’re not about to d-”

Kylo moans loudly, tensing suddenly. He jerks once twice, holds your shaking body so close his embrace is almost tender as your orgasms rip through you. His skin is wet against yours, covered in a light sheen of sweat. He doesn’t let go until Hux pulls the blindfold from your face and his gun from your mouth looking both irritated and satisfied. They share a lingering glance, communicating silently until the tension in the room rises to its boiling point.

Hux leaves wordlessly, slamming the door behind him.

“The general,” Kylo Ren says, “likes you more than the others.”


End file.
